1. I spend a fair amount of my time enjoying the feeling of stretching, stretching as a cat does, when I wake up in the morning on the mornings when I’m feeling well. The sheets are as soft then as I imagine they will ever be, and it is the only time that I notice and understand them as distinct objects.
2. The expression by heart, as in, I know the smell of your shampoo by heart, is nonsense; it is a calque, a literal translation, of the French par cœur, which is, coincidentally, nearly homophonous to parkour (again from the French, parcours), which is free-running.
3. This is from Proust: The past is hidden somewhere outside the realm, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object (in the sensation which that material object will give us) of which we have no inkling. And it depends on chance whether or not we come upon this object before we ourselves must die.
1+2. The expression wake up, as in, I will always remember, by heart, the sensation of waking up (if I spent the rest of life awake I would not forget it), but never remember falling asleep, has always been defined, even in its earlier Old English iterations, in opposition to a pre-existing sleep.
1+3. Stretching in the morning, and feeling the sheets distinctly in a way I never do otherwise, I know that, despite everything that’s happened in them, they will never strike me as anything more than sheets. This is a good enough reason for getting out of bed.
2+3. There are certain things that I don’t know, consciously, how to memorize—smells, sensations—except when I am dreaming. I never forget anything when dreaming, and in the dreams that I remember, never care to.
1×2. To stretch in the sheets, if both the verb stretch and noun sheets are returned to their Proto-Indo-European root meanings, would be: To stiffen in the chase. This is a good enough reason for getting out of bed.
1×3. The past is hidden somewhere, beyond the reach of intellect, in some material object of which I have no inkling. By process of elimination, I have determined that it’s not in my bed.
2×3. The expression point of view, as in, There is no absolute point of view from which real and ideal can finally be separated and labeled, is a calque, a literal translation of the French point de vue. The past, with a good vantage but no means to make use of it, has no point of view of its own. It can only take on the appearance of one, which it does through us, who are the present, if the circumstances are right.
1/2. I imagine that I will always enjoy the feeling of an early-morning stretch. But I know the sensation of it by heart. In knowing it so well it will never be an obstacle to me, as some sensations are. I may linger in it, but I have no cause to stay. In knowing a thing by heart, leaving it becomes much simpler.
1/3. I have owned many cats, and most of them are dead. But I rarely think of them now. My first cat, Archie, was hit by a car not far from the house, and we buried it in a plastic bag in the yard. I remember once driving to a restaurant with my parents when I was young and passing a dead dog on the side of the road. On the other side of the street, waiting for the traffic to clear, stood a teenage girl, and she was crying violently. I remember that I couldn’t eat when we got to the restaurant, but I can’t remember if this happened before or after we buried Archie.
2/3. The smell of certain shampoos can bring back a lot of memories. But seeing their bottles in a store, or, as happens more rarely, the liquid itself, only reminds me that I am not at home, comfortable amongst my own things.
(1×2)+(2×3)/(1+3). It has been found that plants can communicate with one another via clicking sounds, which are transmitted through the soil. When a plant was placed in water and a sound of the correct frequency was played near the plant, it stretched, in its growing, towards the sound, as it would towards the sun. This, to my mind, is a good enough reason to get out of bed.